


Iris

by Batsutousai



Category: British Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Gore, Temporaily Blind Character, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 10:30:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batsutousai/pseuds/Batsutousai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Punishment for a prank gone too far leaves Loki without his sight and in Tom's care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iris

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaim Her:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Marvel. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The characters of Thomas "Tom" Hiddleston is based on a real person, and no offence is intended; this is only for the amusement of myself and other like-minded (read: mentally ill) fans.  
>  The title comes from the song of the same name by Goo Goo Dolls, which gave me some inspiration. (And too many feels.)
> 
> **A/N:** MischiefRulesHere/BriAndLoki gave me a prompt for blind!Loki. For reasons beyond my ~~interest in~~ ability to explain ~~ing~~ , this fic jumped the queue and largely wrote itself.  
> I blame Bri for any and everything you find wrong with it. XD (Including the smut, which she pestered me about until I added.)

It was hardly the first time Loki had been left to suffer damage to his eyes as punishment, but it was so much worse this time. The lack of the ever-loyal Sigyn to catch the poison – or, in this case, shoo away the ravens – meant no respite, and the knowledge that it was Huginn and Muninn – such constants throughout his child- and adulthood – causing this damage to him was almost more painful than the sensation of having his eyes torn from their sockets and the slow regeneration. 

Loki closed his abused eyelids over the useless sockets, Huginn and Muninn leaving for the day, and curled in on himself as much as he could, chained as he was against the cliff face. The sun would creep around the rocks shortly and burn over his naked skin for the length of the long day, leaving him parched and covered in blisters. The pain had become familiar over the past weeks...months? He'd stopped keeping track of time; it hurt too much. 

He shouldn't have cast the spell that blinded Heimdall. Honestly, it was all meant in good fun, a return for the Gatekeeper sending Thor down to Loki after almost two years of dodging the golden prince. He'd known it had been Heimdall – Thor had told him as much – and he and the Gatekeeper had a long history of pissing (figuratively, other than that one time, but Loki had only been twenty, to be fair) on each other for their amusements. 

Loki couldn't have known that Heimdall had been keeping an eye on some incoming danger or another – Odin hadn't been clear when he'd been doling out Loki's punishment – which had taken the chance to cast fire down on the golden city. A score of Æsir had been killed before the army could mobilise, and another dozen had fallen in battle. Loki had seen the structural damage as Thor dragged him in, face cast in hard lines under a healing burn, and he had to admit it was...well. He supposed he understood Odin's anger, even if he believed the punishment was a little excessive. 

(Odin's punishments were always excessive. Loki knew that.) 

More than his own suffering, Loki admitted to himself, he hurt at the thought of his lover's reaction to his disappearance. Loki had stormed out that morning in anger over something stupid, and Thor had refused to give him the chance to send Thomas word that he was being recalled to Asgard. Loki hoped Thomas wouldn't think him so angry to have left for good, but it wasn't uncommon for Loki to vanish for a couple days when his temper was high, too afraid of causing permanent harm to his mortal lover. 

It hardly mattered; Thomas had no idea where Loki had gone, and no way to reach Asgard besides, should he make the connection. 

Loki only prayed that he would be freed from this punishment before Thomas' short life ended. 

-0-

Another morning woken by ravens flapping down to his shoulders. Loki tiredly opened his useless eyelids, having long learned that keeping them closed only meant more pain. 

"Oh," an achingly familiar voice whispered, and Loki wondered if he was hallucinating. (It would hardly be the first time.) "Loki," that voice said, caught on a sob, and a gentle hand brushed his cheek. 

Loki flinched from the unexpected contact and hurriedly closed his eyelids. He'd never hallucinated touch before, so did that mean–?

Huginn and Muninn fleeing preceded the hand pressing against his cheek, firm, but gentle and achingly familiar. "I'm here," that voice whispered, close enough that Loki could feel breath against the mostly healed burns on his collarbone. 

"Th'm's?" Loki managed through a throat ruined from no water and screaming from pain. 

Thomas – oh, Norns, it _was_ him, Loki knew it – let out that broken noise he made when someone he loved was hurt, and brushed his thumb against Loki's lips. "Shh," he directed. "It's okay. I'm here, and I going to get you down. And then we're going to go home and you're going to take a bath." 

Loki quirked a smile at that, understanding it to be a joke, though it had been delivered in a voice that carried little humour. 

"Thor is here to help me," Thomas warned, and Loki twitched with an aborted tense. 

Of course Thor would be needed; Loki was far too heavy for Thomas to manage on his own, and the mortal would never be able to break the magical chains holding Loki against the cliff. 

"I'm going to be right here," Thomas swore quietly, and Loki pressed his cheek against the hand still cupped against it, silent permission and gratitude. "It's okay," Thomas called, and it sounded like he'd turn his head to look to one side. 

Heavy footsteps crunched over gravel that Thomas had barely stirred in his approach, and Thor cleared his throat to Loki's left. "Br– Loki," he said, roughness to his voice suggesting that he had hardly expected to find the younger god in such a state. 

Loki curled his lips with a cruel smile, turning his head towards where he was sure Thor stood. He didn't need words or his sight to mock his adopted brother, never had. 

"Loki," Thomas whispered, pleading and carrying a broken edge that tugged at the ragged edges of Loki's mauled heart in a way that little did after centuries of broken trust. Loki obediently turned his face away from Thor, and Thomas' thumb pressed gently across his lips in a parody of a kiss. "I want to get him home," the mortal said, voice firm. 

"Sorry," Thor whispered. 

It was only as Mjölnir struck hard against the manacle that Loki wondered how Thomas had secured his release. Odin was not a forgiving ruler – less so when it came to Loki and what damages his amusements caused – and Loki would have laughed to hear that any mortal could talk him into freeing Loki from a punishment. But, then, Loki knew Thomas was clever, and had no fear in facing down angry gods. 

Still... 

Thor broke the final manacle and Loki fell forward into Thomas' waiting arms, which buckled but held against his weight. He whimpered at the flare of pain from healing burns across his front, and Thomas' breath shuddered in his ear, echoing the god. 

"Thor, I can't hold him for much longer," Thomas admitted, voice straining. 

Hands rough from over a millennium bearing arms took a gentle hold of Loki, picking him up bridal style. Fabric was draped over him and tucked between Thor's arms and his undamaged back, protecting what little modesty Loki retained. 

Familiar, long fingers tangled in his, careful of the minor burning across his palm. "Back to Midgard, please," Thomas requested. 

"You are certain you wish not to–"

"Midgard, Thor," Thomas said, voice firm. "Your mother gave me salves, and the best place for him is home." 

Thor drew a breath, as though to speak. 

"I swear to God, if you complete that thought, I will put a knife in your side," Thomas said, anger in his voice that seemed somehow both completely out of place, yet the most soothing sound Loki had heard in a long time. 

Thor's body shuddered with something that might have been fear, but was more likely amusement. All the same, he rumbled an affirmative and carefully shifted his hold against Loki to draw something from his belt. 

Loki frowned, uncertain what his adopted brother had taken. There was a click, then Loki could hear the familiar hum of the Tesseract. He tensed as the second click came – Thomas initialising his side of the carrying case – and the wash of power crashed into them, tingling unpleasantly over his damaged skin. He clenched his eyes tight, trying to protect the ravaged sockets from further damage. 

Then everything settled, and the hum of power faded with a click. 

Familiar smells washed over him, bitter coffee and the dish soap Thomas always forgot to close. The hum of electricity from lights and the computer filled the silence left by the Tesseract, and Loki felt some tenseness leave him. 

"This way," Thomas directed, his fingers squeezing Loki's, and they they were moving, Thor's steps careful, to avoid jarring Loki. 

The sound quality changed, and the air cooled, as they slowed to a stop. Lips pressed to Loki's hair, avoiding burns, and Thomas said, "How about that bath?" 

Loki recognised the difference now – the echoes of the bathroom from the tiled walls and floor – and he nodded; yes, it would be nice to relax in water after so long left to the unforgiving heat of the sun. 

"Okay," Thomas whispered, and his hand left Loki's before the water started running. 

After some time, the water was shut off and Thomas' fingers brushed against Loki's cheek as the cloth covering him was pulled away. "It's a bit cold," Thomas warned, and Loki nodded his understanding. "Okay. Thor's going to put you in." Loki nodded again and Thomas' touch vanished. 

Thor carefully lowered him into the water. It was _very_ cold, cold enough that Loki felt the glamour hiding his Jötunn skin threatening to fail. He clung tight to it, knowing Thomas would tell him off for fighting the change, but refusing to let Thor see him like that. 

"Thank you," Thomas said once Thor pulled away, Loki mostly submerged. "You can go back, now." 

"Are you cert–"

"Quite. Thank you, Thor, for your assistance," Thomas interrupted, a bite to his voice. 

There was a moment of stillness, then Thor cleared his throat. "You're welcome, Thomas." His feet fell against the tile flooring before touching on the soft carpeting of the hallway. Out there, he activated the Tesseract, the air humming with its power. 

Thomas' fingers brushed against Loki's cheek, and he flinched away. "Shh," the mortal soothed, and the fingers came again, gentle and caring. "He's gone. Relax. Come on, everything." 

Loki carefully let himself rest back against the incline of the tub, shuddering once before he let the glamour go. Immediately, the water felt glorious, rather than just cold, and he relaxed further. 

"There you are," Thomas said, voice fond, and Loki turned to nuzzle against the mortal's fingers. Thomas let out a quiet sigh and his breath preceded his lips in pressing against Loki's forehead. "I'm so sorry, Loki." 

Loki shook his head. "M' fa'l," he rasped out, wincing at the pain of his throat. 

"No, love, no," Thomas was quick to insist, his forehead pressing against Loki's carefully. "No, this is _Odin's_ fault." 

Loki wasn't about to argue with that. 

"I'm just..." He sighed again, the sound stuttering with pain. "I should have come sooner. I knew something was wrong, but I let it sit." His breath caught again, and something wet dropped to just under Loki's ruined eyelid. "You should have been home months ago." 

Loki slowly lifted an arm from the comforting chill of the water and cupped Thomas' face. "Lo' 'ou," he managed. 

Thomas let out a sob and turned to press a kiss against Loki's palm, directly over the worst of the burns there. "I love you too," he whispered before swallowing hard and sitting back, Loki's hand following after to keep the contact. "Sorry," he said as fingers brushed against the tip of Loki's thumb, brushing away the hint of liquid that had gathered there. 

_Tears,_ Loki recognised, and his heart clenched. 

Thomas shifted and kissed Loki's thumb before carefully pulling Loki's hand from his cheek. "Let me get you some water and the things Frigga gave me, okay? I'll be right back." 

Loki nodded. 

"Right back," Thomas repeated, pressing his lips against Loki's fingers before letting his hand go. 

The air moved with him, leaving a wake of cold in his absence, which seemed too cold for even Loki's Jötunn skin to adapt to, and he drew his hand back to his chest, pressing the last spot Thomas had kissed against the skin over his heart. 

After a moment, the air moved again and glass clinked against porcelain. "Sit up a bit?" Thomas requested, one hand carefully sliding behind Loki's shoulders to help him. 

Loki struggled a bit, wincing as his burns pulled, but managed to settle a bit higher up in the tub. 

"Slow sips," Thomas warned before gently pressing something cool and smooth against his lips. Loki reached up one hand to help direct the glass a bit, even as he opened his mouth to accept the trickle of cold water. 

It felt like a balm moving over his tongue and down his throat. There was a tingle to it, a familiar zing of healing magic, and he realised Frigga must have given Thomas more than just burn salve. He felt a wave of gratitude for his adopted mother, rising only briefly over the well of love he felt for his mortal lover. 

Too soon, Thomas pulled the glass away. "You can have more in a bit," he promised, kissing the hand that had trailed unconsciously after the glass. Loki immediately pulled his hand back to his chest, sending a frown in the direction Thomas' voice came from. 

Thomas let out a choked sound, somewhere between laugh and sob, and glass rattled against the edge of the tub. "Here," he said, reaching out and taking Loki's hand, guiding it to the container the mortal held. Loki dipped his fingers into the burn salve, the familiar scent finally reaching him, as Thomas said, "Frigga told me it should help your burns heal faster. And she said it could be applied in water?" 

Loki nodded; he'd often applied the salve while the burned skin was held under water. The danger in preferring the element of fire, of course, was the inevitable burns he received from a miscast spell, and Frigga had mastered producing the salve early on. 

"I'll start with your legs, if you want to start on your face?" 

Loki nodded and Thomas helped him position the container on his stomach, where Loki could easily find it without needing to see. They both took a couple fingerfuls of the salve and set to work, rubbing sweet relief into his skin, finally ending the pain that had become so constant, Loki had almost forgotten it was there. 

Thomas was about to Loki's knees when he finally said, "She didn't have anything to help with your eyes." 

Loki nodded; she wouldn't have. It was likely one of the reasons Odin had chosen this particular punishment, because there was nothing to do but wait for his eyes to grow back. 

"She said..." Thomas let out a shuddering sigh and his hand paused on Loki's thigh, cooled by the water and the chill Loki's Jötunn skin exuded. "She said it could take _months_. And that they might get infected, down here on Earth. She wanted me to leave you in Asgard." 

" _No_ ," Loki rasped, reaching out and grabbing for Thomas' arm when he brushed it with his fingers. 

Thomas caught Loki's hand with his and pressed his lips against Loki's knuckles. "I know. It's okay. I told her no, and you're home now." He turned Loki's hand and pressed his lips to his palm. "We'll manage. I can spend a few months not doing any projects, okay? We've got money." 

Loki nodded, reaching out and tracing the mortal's lips with his fingers, mapping out familiar contours and feeling them tremble with how hard Thomas was trying to keep himself together. Loki knew his lover well enough to know that, as soon as the god was safely asleep, the mortal would fall apart. They were so much alike that way, refusing to let the other see them in pain. 

Thomas pursed his lips, and Loki could feel the curl of a smile as he pressed two fingers against the middle of the mortal's lips, accepting the kiss. "Did you want more water?" Thomas asked, undeterred by the fingers against his lips. 

Loki nodded and pulled his hand back, pressing his fingers against his own lips. 

"Here." Thomas gently pulled Loki's hand from his lips and replaced it with the glass. "Remember, slow." 

Loki sighed and mentally rolled his eyes, wishing he could actually do so. He was an invalid, not an idiot. 

Thomas allowed him another few swallows, then pulled the glass away. Loki reached down to get more of the salve, return to soothing his burns, when Thomas said, "I forgot something, I think," voice a little uncertain. His hand cupped Loki's cheek, uncaring for the traces of salve his skin hadn't yet absorbed, and then his lips pressed gently against Loki's. 

Loki reached up and tangled a hand in Thomas' hair, pushing forward into the kiss in spite of his body's complaints at the movement. Because he _needed_ this kiss, needed it more than he needed the water, or the salve. 

Thomas let out a broken noise and the hand cupping Loki's cheek slid around and back to support his head as the mortal's mouth opened, tongue brushing an apology against Loki's lips, his teeth, his tongue. 

Loki tangled their tongues together, gentle and comforting, accepting the apology, though he hardly thought it was necessary. But, then, Thomas wouldn't be himself if he wasn't constantly apologising, and Loki had long grown used to the habit. 

Thomas was the one to pull away first, breath heavy and stuttering. He rested his forehead against Loki's, their noses brushing, and whispered, "Let's put the rest of the salve on and get you to bed." 

Loki took a moment to play with the curl that had ended up wrapped around his finger, then nodded. 

Thomas eased him back into the previous position, then returned to putting salve on Loki's legs, hands warm and comforting against Loki's skin. 

Loki didn't even notice himself nodding off until Thomas' voice called, "Loki? It's time to wake up, lovely." 

Loki opened his eyes, his aches so eased that he didn't even remember that his eyes were missing until he heard the choked-off gasp that Thomas let slip free. Then he hurriedly closed his eyes and covered them with one hand for good measure. "Sorry," he rasped out. 

"It's okay," Thomas soothed, gently prying Loki's hand away. Once it was out of the way, lips pressed against each of Loki's eyelids, and his breath caught on what was most certainly _not_ a sob. He caught his hand in Thomas' shirt, needing something to hold on to. Sometimes, he forgot how wonderful his mortal was, how loved he always made Loki feel, no matter what had happened. 

"Let's get you to bed," Thomas said, moved far enough away that Loki couldn't feel his breath on his face. "Do you think you can support your weight at all?" 

"I can...try," Loki allowed. 

"Okay." There came a pop, then the rush of draining water. 

Loki felt along the edges of the tub for a moment, re-familiarising himself with the boundaries he had to work with, then levered himself up enough to get his legs under him. Everything felt shaky, weak, but it was hardly the first time he'd gone through months – or years, even – of terrible punishments, and he was more than familiar with his limits; the hours in the bathtub and his impromptu nap had returned enough strength for him to make it back to their bed, especially with Thomas to lean on. 

Thomas was wordless in helping him out of the tub, running a towel over the god while Loki held onto the wall on shaky legs. 

They made it to the bed without too much trouble, and Thomas helped Loki into the bed and under the covers. When Thomas moved to leave, however, Loki refused to let go of the arm he'd been holding on to. "Stay," he whispered, edging on a plea. 

Thomas was silent and still. 

"Please stay," Loki whispered, turning his head up towards where he was near certain Thomas was standing. He didn't want to be alone with the darkness and the faint burn of healing. 

The bed dipped and Loki didn't have to strain to keep a hold of Thomas any more. "Okay," the mortal agreed. "I'm not going anywhere. Here." He gently transferred Loki's hand from his arm to his waist, under the shirt, then stretched as he pulled the clothing off. 

Loki wished he could see; he loved watching the play of muscles as Thomas stretched. As it was, he was left with his sense of touch, and he pressed his fingers up his mortal's side, over taut skin and the hint of ribs. "You've lost weight," he realised, and his chest tightened with realisation as to why. 

"Not as much as you have," Thomas replied evenly, shifting to get his trousers and pants off. 

Loki frowned. "Not the same." 

"Hush. We'll get back to an acceptable weight together," Thomas insisted, then scooted over so he shared in the same circle of body heat. "Your burns seem to have mostly healed already. Remind me to thank Frigga if I ever meet her again." 

Loki shook his head and pushed forward, hiding under Thomas' chin and taking a moment to breathe in the smell of his stupid shampoo and the body wash they shared. The zing of Frigga's burn salve laid over everything, almost burying the smells of Asgard that clung to both their skin like magic. 

"You're home," Thomas whispered, voice choked, and his arms pulled Loki closer in a desperate hug. "You're _safe_."

Loki nuzzled closer to Thomas' throat, clinging to the mortal's waist as much as Thomas clung to him. "I'm home," he breathed. "Everything is better, now." 

Thomas shuddered against him, breath coming in helpless little gasps, and Loki realised his lover had finally given up on holding himself together. The god moved his arms up and wrapped them around Thomas, silently offering what comfort he could. 

"I love you," Thomas gasped out. 

Loki pressed his lips to the mortal's collarbone, whispering, " _Thank you_."

" _Always_ ," Thomas replied, a stupid quote he'd picked up from some idiotic novel and which suddenly meant so much. 

And as Thomas' breathing eased, Loki let himself fall back into a dreamless sleep. 

-0-

Loki woke to the stillness of his and Thomas' Midgardian residence and the distant pain of empty eye sockets. He stayed very still for a long moment, trying to classify what had woken him, and finding nothing. Nothing but that uncommon silence and the absence of burning pain. 

The toilet seat echoed down the hall and Loki realised Thomas wasn't in the bed with him. How had he missed that before? _Too many days spent alone,_ he thought, and turned his head to one side, as though trying to escape the thought. 

A buzzing sound came from the table on Thomas' side of the bed, and Loki jerked in surprise. A jaunty little jingle followed, something familiar and forever determined to set Loki's teeth on edge; Emma's ringtone. (Even when she wasn't there, Thomas' younger sister lived to drive Loki to murder. Given, he wouldn't like her near so much if she didn't.) 

There was no sound of movement from down the hall, so Loki reached across the bed and groped blindly for a moment before he found the mobile. Familiar with the controls after all the times he'd "borrowed" it from his lover, he didn't need eyes to answer it. "What?" he rasped into the speaker, only so rude because he knew who was on the other end. 

There was a moment's silence, then Emma breathed, _" **Loki**?"_

"A shame, I'm sure," Loki returned, lips curled on a snarl. 

_"Oh thank God, you're okay."_ Emma let out a relieved noise while Loki stared disbelievingly into the eternal darkness above him. She let out a tired laugh. _"You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice, though it sounds... Are you okay? You sound like you caught a cold or something."_

Loki paused for a moment, jarring against the familiar blunt answer he would have delivered without thought. "I am...on the mend," he decided. 

_"On the..."_ Emma tsked. _"On the mend from what? Or are you too afraid to tell me?"_

Loki thinned his lips in disapproval, itching to snarl the truth at her. But that _honest concern_...

"Hey," Thomas interrupted, the bed dipping as a familiar hand settled gently on Loki's chest. "Did someone call? Is it Mum?" 

Loki shook his head and held the mobile up to his lover. "Emma." 

"Huh." Thomas accepted the mobile from Loki, the hand on the god's chest tracing the lines that appeared with his Jötunn skin, though he was as an Æsir, at the moment. "Hey, Em. Yeah, yeah, I found him. It's...complicated." There was a long pause and Thomas' fingers stopped moving against Loki's chest. "He didn't tell you? That's surprising." 

Loki turned his head away, lips thinned again. 

Thomas sighed and his hand splayed out over Loki's heart. "It wasn't pretty, okay? Were you going to come over tomo– Well, today, then. No, we got home and slept. Why are you even calling so late?" He let out a nervous chuckle. "Oh. Sorry. Yeah, I had other things on my mind. What time were you going to show up? Yeah? Am I making you breakfast, then? Oh. Yeah, sure, that would be nice. I don't know if Loki can eat anything on their menu, though. I can make him something, it's not a problem." His hand moved back to tracing over Loki's chest, this time moving in the easy pattern of his name, tiny and directly over Loki's heart again and again. "Okay. Yeah, get some sleep. We will. Night, Em." 

Thomas shifted, putting the mobile back on the table and stretching out next to Loki, his hand slipping down to wrap loosely around the god's hips. "I told her I'd call her before I went to bed, no matter what news I had. Forgot about that." 

Loki turned back towards him, their foreheads bumping unexpectedly. "She was worried?" he asked as Thomas settled against him, pressing their foreheads together in a far more familiar motion. 

Thomas' hand at his hip rattled out a nervous pattern. "They all were. After–" He took a quick breath, stuttering with the reminder of tears he'd shed before they'd fallen asleep. "After you disappeared, when I thought you should have been back, I called around about you. No one knew anything, and they promised to keep an eye out." 

Loki brushed one hand up Thomas' arm, curling around his shoulder. "How long?" he asked, because it had been eating at him. 

Thomas swallowed, noise loud in the stillness of the room. "Almost four months." 

Time moved differently in Asgard, faster, so four months on Earth was... Loki let out a heavy breath. He'd been chained to that cliff for just over seven months. _Norns._

"I'm sorry," Thomas whispered, voice broken. 

Loki shook his head and slipped his hand into the mortal's hair, unable to stop a smile at how it curled around his fingers; Thomas' hair hadn't been so curly in all the time they'd lived together, and Loki hated that he couldn't see it. "How did you find me?" he asked. "How did you get to Asgard?" 

Thomas curled the hand against Loki's hip into a fist. "Hela," he said, voice tense. 

_Ah._ His daughter and Thomas had met during a terrifying accident – wherein Loki had almost lost the mortal – last year. Ever since, she occasionally visited him in his dreams. Loki had crafted a spell to keep her away when Thomas got to the point where he refused to sleep. It had been a strong spell, woven into a rune-covered, hand-sized pillow which Thomas kept in his pillowcase, but it needed to be reapplied every few months. 

_'You should have been home months ago,'_ Thomas had said earlier. 

"How did you get to Asgard?" Loki asked again, because his daughter was bound to her realm. 

Thomas snorted, his fist loosening. "Not long after you moved in with me, Thor came down to check on you, remember?" 

How could Loki forget? He'd been absolutely furious to find his adopted brother with his lover, certain they'd been plotting behind his back. He'd almost left because of it, but Thomas was stubborn, and Thor swore he'd never speak to the mortal again unless Thomas called for him in true need. 

"You called for Thor," he realised. 

"Yeah. I'd tried earlier, before Hela contacted me, but he didn't come," he admitted a touch bitterly. "I didn't try again." 

'I should have,' Thomas didn't say, but Loki heard it all the same. 

"He didn't want to take me, insisted Asgard was no place for mortals." 

"It _isn't_ ," Loki insisted. 

Thomas' hand squeezed Loki's hip. "I don't really care about your rules," he reminded the god drily, and Loki's lips curled with a fond smile. Thomas pressed his lips against Loki's cheek, then explained, "Frigga came to meet us. She seemed certain that, if anyone could talk Odin around, it would be me." He let out a breath of a laugh, air stirring sharp against Loki's cheek. "I'm still not sure how I did it." 

"What did you say to him?" 

"I told him exactly what I thought of him." 

Loki moaned and turned to curl against Thomas' chest, one hand pressed over his heart, as though to make certain his mortal was still alive. 

Thomas' chest shook with his laughter under Loki's palm. "I thought he was going to kill me. Then..." Thomas shuddered and Loki tilted his head back, closed eyes trained on where he thought the mortal's eyes were. "One of the ravens landed on his shoulder and he...he listened to it, I guess. I don't really know. But he told me I could get you down if I found someone willing to free you. Thor wasn't hard to guilt." 

"He never is," Loki agreed quietly, curling back against Thomas' chest. 

They were both quiet for a long moment, breathing slowing with the exhaustion Loki, at least, could still feel. 

"I won't be able to recast on the pillow for a few weeks," he admitted against Thomas' collarbone. 

"I know. I'll make do." Thomas brushed his hand up and down Loki's back. "Go back to sleep, Loki." 

-0-

When Loki woke again, Thomas was still sleeping against him, arm draped comfortably over Loki's hip. His bladder was speaking to him, however, and Loki grimaced before slipping from Thomas' arm. He rolled carefully to the edge of the bed and took a moment to be certain he was sitting up straight, letting his body centre itself, before he slowly rose to his feet. 

The hours of sleep had returned much of his strength, and he easily kept upright on his own. But he still paused for a moment, trying to visualise the path he would take to the bathroom. It was pretty straightforward, and there was something within easy reach the entire time, helping him keep on track. 

Over the toilet, however, he was met with a new complication; how to relieve himself if he couldn't see to aim? 

In the end, he sat on the seat and scowled at the – entirely unnecessary, thank you, unconscious – echo of Thor's voice calling him a girl. 

About the time he was fumbling for the soap, he heard Thomas call, "Loki?" 

"Here," Loki called back and immediately regretted it. Because Frigga's potions might have helped, but it hadn't healed all the damage done to his throat, especially not since he was still dehydrated. (Not dangerously dehydrated, though, not after those hours spent in his Jötunn form; living on an ice world, his race had adapted to needing less water, and what little water he'd had as a Jötunn had translated into his Æsir form when he'd turned back.) 

Air moved behind him just before hands slipped around Loki's waist, meeting over the centre of his abdomen. "Morning," Thomas murmured, voice sleepy. 

"It is?" 

"Mmm..." Thomas' cheek rubbed against Loki's shoulder, warm and comfortable with just a hint of stubble. "It's not quite six. Emma said she'd be by around six thirty." He pressed a kiss against the back of Loki's neck, then moved over towards the toilet, the seat clacking as it was raised. "How are you feeling?" 

Loki took a moment to consider that as Thomas relieved himself. Only after the mortal had flushed and crowded him out of the way of the sink did Loki say, "Better." 

"Yeah, you're standing up without shaking," Thomas offered, damp hands brushing up Loki's stomach and chest. "And it looks like all the burns have healed." He let out a quiet noise of sadness and his fingers skipped up to brush against the corners of Loki's eyes, following when Loki flinched back. "Your eyelids are still covered in scratches." 

Loki shrugged. "Burn salve doesn't heal scratches. They'll heal in a couple days." 

"Still." Thomas sighed and his lips were suddenly on Loki's, gentle and loving. Loki leaned into him, still desperate for kisses. 

But, then, he'd always been fond of kisses, of using his mouth to trace adoration against his lover's skin, even long before Thomas. Kisses were honest, transferred a well of words and emotions in a fraction of the time it would take them to drip from his tongue like silver honey. 

This, though... This was seven months apart, seven months with only ravens and the sun as companions. And Loki couldn't see, couldn't catch the words unspoken that hid in Thomas' eyes. But he could taste them on his tongue: the bitter self-deprecation, the sharp zing of anger aimed at someone out of reach, melted at the edges with concern... 

That perfect blend of love, over-sweet, with an edge of spice; a taste that was wholly Thomas, one that Loki would never grow tired of. 

"Let's get dressed," Thomas breathed against Loki's lips, the curl of a smile brushing against its mirror on Loki's mouth. 

Loki nodded and let Thomas lead him back to their bedroom. Thomas left him next to the bed, and Loki turned his head to mark his progress as drawers and cupboard doors opened and closed. 

At last, Thomas returned to his side. He set a pile of clothing on the bed and guided Loki's hands to it. "Pants on the top, then trousers. There's a pair of socks in the left pocket, because they've got an elastic waist, okay?" Loki nodded. "The shirt's on the bottom. It's your favourite, the one with those _ridiculous_ buttons, so let me know if you want me to switch it." 

Loki snorted. "I have no difficulty with those buttons." 

"And, yet, I'm always the one undoing them," Thomas muttered good-naturedly. Then he moved away. "Emma said she'll bring some breakfast sandwiches. I know it's been a while since you've eaten, so I think it'll be better if you stick to soup, maybe some rice if you're up to it? Something easy to digest. I don't think either of us wants you throwing up first thing this morning. 

"Anyway, if the smell of the sandwiches ends up bothering you, we can bin them and Emma and I can have soup, too. It's no problem, and she'll just have to make do. But please, for the love of my sanity, don't make a fuss just to upset her, okay? I know you two have this... I'm not even sure what to call it." 

"Mutual pact of exasperation?" Loki suggested, amused. He had no plans to be difficult today, not with Emma's honest concern still echoing in his ears from the call last night, but Thomas didn't know that. 

"Yes, that. I know you two have fun with that, but let's call a truce for today, okay?" 

"I shall do my utmost."

"...that was almost reassuring. Thank you." 

Loki smiled and straightened, having finished doing up the last button. 

Thomas' hands came to rest against Loki's waist again, warm even through the shirt. "I feel like we need to do something with your eyes," he admitted, the words careful. 

Loki quite agreed with him, disturbed enough with the brief glances Thomas had seen of the empty sockets. "One of your ties," he suggested, "or a scarf. The thinner black one, perhaps." 

"Oh, yeah, that would be perfect." Thomas shifted until he could comfortably walk next to Loki. "Okay, come on, living room. Let me know if we need to stop." 

"I _have_ done this before," Loki commented drily. 

Thomas' hand spasmed against his back. "I haven't," he said, voice tight with anger that Loki was near certain was aimed at Odin. "You'll just have to put up with my hovering. Come on." 

In truth, once they'd left the close quarters of the bedroom and hallway, Loki was grateful for the unerring guidance Thomas provided. He could have crossed the open spaces of the main room on his own, certainly, but it would have taken him almost three times as long, especially without some sort of cane to help him feel the space in front of him. He would have to pull out one of his cane-sized magical staffs for any time he had to move around the flat on his own, or if he had to leave it entirely for some reason. 

Norns, he wanted his sight back. 

The scarf was secured without trouble over Loki's eyelids, the smooth fabric gentle against the scabs lining his eyelids. And the gentle pressure was a constant reminder that he needed to keep his eyes closed, both because the sight was surely terrible, and to keep down the chance of infection. 

Thomas had Loki sit at the kitchen table and made him some soup and dry toast. He'd just finished setting the meagre breakfast before Loki, ensuring the god knew where everything was, when there came a knock at the front door. 

"I'll be right back," Thomas promised, and Loki felt the brush of air as the mortal hurried from the room. After the door opened, Loki recognised Emma's voice, but they spoke too quietly for him to be certain exactly what they were saying. 

He knew when they reached the kitchen by the smell and Emma's heels on the linoleum. "Well, you don't _look_ like you've been through hell," Emma said, a chair screeching as it was dragged over the floor. "The scarf is an interesting fashion statement, though." 

" _Emma_ ," Thomas said on a sigh. 

"I have not been through Hel," Loki informed them both drily. "I rather prefer Hel to Odin's punishments." 

There was a beat of silence, then Emma drily commented, "You know, sometimes, I forget you're a deity. And then you go and talk about the afterlife like it would be a nice spot for a picnic." 

"Only if you bring a coat," Loki retorted, and the familiar banter was unexpectedly calming. 

Food wrappers crinkled for a moment before two plates thunked gently against the table top and the final chair dragged against the floor. 

"Tom said you're blind?" Emma said, and there was no teasing in her voice, only that same hint of concern from last night's phone conversation. 

"Temporarily," Loki agreed carefully. "Should we avoid complications, I should have my vision wholly back within two months." 

Thomas let out a quiet breath of relief. "Frigga made it sound like it would take way longer, even if they healed fine." 

Loki shrugged. "I may be wrong, given. Last time–" Emma let out a sharp noise of distress, "–it took near five months, but there were other factors to contend with." He grimaced. "They developed an infection, for one, but I believe we can avoid that. Acid wounds, also, tend to heal far slower." 

"Oh my God," Emma breathed. "Christ, your adopted father is unreal. Also, heartless. Seriously." 

Loki snorted. "At last, a matter we can agree on." He tapped his spoon on the edge of his bowl. "Thomas informs me I have been absent for near four months; what have I missed that he will refuse to tell me?" 

Thomas let out a quiet moan while Emma laughed, then set about catching Loki up. 

-0-

The first week was the most difficult. Loki constantly found himself either reaching for Thomas, or wishing the mortal would just _leave him alone_ for five minutes. Thankfully, Thomas was a patient man, and well used to Loki's rapid moods. 

By week two, they'd settled in with each other again. Thomas had learned exactly how much help he needed to provide, and Loki had finally got it set in his head that Thomas was really there, and not just a hallucination. The only thing they argued about was when Loki locked himself in the bathroom twice a day to flush out his empty eye sockets, doing his best to keep them from getting infected. Thomas wanted to help, but Loki was determined that his lover didn't need to see the damage again. 

Week three, Thomas finally agreed to let people visit – Emma had been the only person he'd allowed in the flat since Loki's return, insisting it was easier on both of them if they had as few people to trip over as possible. Diana was an absolute wreck to discover Loki's disability, and even James' stern demeanour eased to see Loki tapping around the flat with the golden cane Thomas had helped him find. 

Thomas' agent, Michael Symons, seemed far more understanding at the actor's forced absence from public upon seeing Loki. He even agreed that it would be best to keep things quiet until Loki had some of his sight back, since it wasn't common knowledge that Thomas was dating a god. 

Other friends and members of Thomas' extended family had varying degrees of understanding and sympathy for Loki upon discovering his temporary blindness, depending on how believable they found his claims of godhood. Loki was unbothered by most of them, in all honestly, and left Thomas to handle their offers of sympathy. 

Early on in the fourth week, Loki's left eye started giving him trouble and he spent a day trying to ignore it before catching Thomas' arm and admitting, "I need help." 

Thomas brushed a gentle kiss to Loki's lips and replied, "What's wrong, lovely?" 

Loki worried at the edge of Thomas' sleeve, which he'd caught between two fingers in grabbing for the mortal. "I fear I may be developing an infection." 

Thomas stilled for a moment before gently turning the god towards the bathroom. "Okay, let me see." 

In the bathroom, Loki took off the scarf without prompting, but he froze at opening his eyelids; he didn't need to be able to see to know how horrifying the healing eye sockets looked, and for all that he had a surprisingly easy manner in dealing with Loki's usual level of gore – the god had had to regrow two fingers during their third month living together, and Thomas had worried over the pain he was certain Loki must be in, but he stomached the sight of muscle and bone remarkably well, for a mortal – Loki was afraid this might be too much. 

Thomas let out a quiet breath and carefully pressed his hands to either side of Loki's head, thumbs brushing against the corners of his eyes. "I've already seen, Loki," he reminded the god, voice gentle. "I'm not going to leave, no matter what." 

Loki reached up and gripped at the front of Thomas' shirt, then slowly opened his eyelids. 

Parts of his eyes were already growing back in, held in place with his magic, or they would be falling out every time he leaned forward. The magic, Loki knew, would cast a bright green light in the cavity, lighting up every bump and corner. Sigyn hadn't reacted well to having to help Loki with the damage from the acid, and that was likely the reason it had become infected. 

Thomas, however, was not Loki's ex-wife. One day, he might even remember that. 

The mortal let out a quiet noise of distress at the reminders of the pain Loki had suffered, but he didn't pull away. "It's your left eye?" he asked after a moment. 

"Yes," Loki whispered, mouth inexplicably dry. 

"It looks a bit inflamed," Thomas offered. "Here, move like–" he turned them both a little to the right. "Good. Will it hurt if I put my finger in there?" 

Loki couldn't stop a helpless little giggle from escaping his mouth. "Put your–? Oh, my Thomas... No. No, it's fine. The magical barrier will stop you from doing anything that might cause me real pain." 

"I worry," Thomas reminded him, pressing a kiss to the tip of Loki's nose. "Okay, I think..." A finger pressed gently against the thin film covering bone for a brief moment before pulling away. "Yeah," Thomas said, sounding more than a little pleased with himself, "there was some hair." 

"Whose?" Loki wondered. It wasn't the first time he'd found what he was certain was hair in the empty sockets, but it was usually long enough that he could feel the end where it stuck out. 

"Mine, I think," Thomas admitted. "It's too curly to be anyone else's." 

Loki's mouth curled with a smile and he carefully felt up Thomas' chest and neck until he could touch the curls. "I like it," he said. 

"You can only say that because you can't see it," Thomas insisted, but his voice was smiling. "Also, you don't have to try taming it in the mornings. So, is your eye going to be okay? Just that one hair?" 

Loki shook his head. "I need to flush it, and then let it sit overnight. If it's not bothering me in the morning, it was probably just that hair. If it's giving me trouble, though, there might be something else wrong." 

"Okay." Thomas pressed his mouth to Loki's for a long moment, an innocent kiss full of comfort and a promise. "Am I allowed to help now?" the mortal asked when he pulled back. 

Loki swallowed. "I suppose." 

He directed Thomas in flushing out the mostly empty sockets and the mortal complained, "This is, absolutely, the grossest thing I have _ever_ done. And I used to eat the mud pies we made. Oh my God." 

But Thomas never let Loki take care of his healing eyes alone again. 

-0-

Loki's sight started returning sometime in the middle of week six. The ability to tell the difference in light levels was the first sign, and Thomas whooped when Loki commented on it.

A couple days later, he could make out vague shapes, patches of darkness against the light, or light against the darkness. 

By the end of that week, the shades were beginning to take on distinctive shapes and colours. 

When he opened his eyes at the start of the seventh week and could make out Thomas' face for the first time, Loki started crying. 

"Loki, love, what's wrong?" Thomas pleaded, catching Loki's face between his hands. 

"I see you," Loki whispered, reaching up and brushing his fingers just under Thomas' left eye, not even a hint of hesitation in the motion. 

Thomas' eyes – bright, _beautiful_ blue – widened before his mouth split open in a wide smile. "That's _wonderful_ ," he breathed. 

Loki blinked a couple times, hating the edge of fuzz that still covered everything as his eyes finished focussing. "Another couple days, I'll be back to normal," he said, even as his eyes trailed up and caught of the dark blond curls he'd taken to playing with whenever Thomas was in reach. He reached up and brushed his hand over the curls, watching them bounce back into place. 

"Oh Lord," Thomas murmured, resigned and amused, as Loki moved his hand over the curls again. "I'm never going to be allowed to straighten my hair again, am I?" 

"You can straighten it; I have magic," Loki reminded him, delighted. 

Thomas chuckled. "Think your magic can make it behave?" 

"Yes, but why would I want to?" 

Thomas laughed outright and reached up to pull Loki's hand away from his hair before leaning forward and catching Loki's wide smile with his own. And if Loki grabbed a handful of curls to deepen the kiss, well, Thomas didn't really complain. 

-0-

That night, Loki enjoyed his newly-returned sight by tracing over Thomas' naked flesh while the blond rode him hard, muscles flexing under sweat and curls bouncing with every motion. And Thomas knew he was watching, stretching far more than was necessary, lips curved with the most delectable smirk... Loki wanted to kiss it off almost as much as he wanted to feel along the play of motions under his skin, to put to sight those motions he'd become so used to only feeling. 

First, though, Loki saw the edge of Thomas' endurance approaching, and he flipped them in a smooth motion that spoke of years of practise. Thomas didn't react, other than to close his eyes and relax back against the pillows. 

Loki took but a moment to settle himself, then he started a slow, hard slide into the mortal, pushing as deep as he could before pulling back out nearly all the way and _pausing_.

Thomas, never one to hide a reaction to Loki's crueller impulses, immediately grabbed for him, whining, "No, oh God, Loki, don't– HA!" He arched as Loki slammed back into him, angled just right to hit hard against his prostate, then tugged against the handful of Loki's hair that he'd caught when grabbing his shoulder. "Come're. Come–" He whimpered as the angle changed again, Loki leaning down brush noses before obediently following the tug on his hair until their lips met, hard and gasping on shared oxygen. 

Loki closed his eyes and lost himself in that spicy-sweet taste of Thomas' love, the sound of their pleasure, the feeling of their bodies moving together, and it was good, was perfect. 

And when he opened his eyes again, it was to the sight of Thomas, head arched back and eyes clenched tight as he came, and it was a sight Loki swore to treasure for the rest of his life.


End file.
